


words mean more at night

by insomniaks (effervescently)



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:38:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescently/pseuds/insomniaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Mortal Instruments universe. Everything is the same except soul mates exist. Their first words to you appear on your wrist on your 18th birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words mean more at night

Magnus sat in confusion as he stared at his wrist, his dark skin flickering in the rainbow lights of his witchlight.

When the Silent Brothers took him in a year before, they explained the Shadow World to him and taught him Latin, gave him lessons in natural sciences and warned him about a mysterious mark that would appear on his eighteenth birthday. He'd expected a word or two, a regular greeting. What appeared on his skin in a flash of searing pain was:

_"We put the holy water in his gas tank, you know."_

The letters were messy and unconnected, none of the usually flourished script he was used to seeing. He didn't know the language, only a few words and phrases he'd heard from white men who had colonized the country he had until recently called home, though he vowed to learn it. None of the Brothers knew what it meant, even though they spoke the language.

They advised him to be patient and wait. After all, he was immortal. He had all the time in the world.

Even when he mastered the language he didn't fully understand the words. His lovers had inquired about them so he started glamouring them, making them appear as generic as possible. There weren't many, but there were few people he'd loved enough to consider matching his words to. He knew it was wrong and that it would inevitably backfire, but it was a nice fantasy. He surrounded himself with beautiful people and beautiful poems and beautiful lives, never quite fitting in.

Eventually he stopped caring. Glamouring the words had been a subconscious action for a long time now, he'd managed to convince himself they weren't there.

That's why he almost didn't recognize them when they came from a blue-eyed Shadowhunter's mouth, and when he did, Magnus thought his heart would jump out of his chest.

* * *

When Alec's words appeared and they weren't Jace's, and they'd never be, he went and destroyed a few targets in the training room. He wanted to forget about those stupid words, written in that stupid, gorgeous, spidery hand.

"I assumed that," Alec muttered under his breath as he fired arrow after arrow into an overly abused target. It wobbled on the wall when arrows struck its center and finally collapsed when Alec had emptied his entire quiver. "Fuck."

"You know," Jace said from the doorway, "When I said I'd get you whatever you wanted for your birthday, I didn't exactly budget for a training room renovation."

Alec glared at him, but it was a weak attempt and Jace walked over. He handed him a pair of sparring gloves and pointed to a punching bag in the corner of the room.

"Will you tell me why you are murdering our training equipment at 3AM, or do I have to ask?"

"Nope." Alec punched the bag.

Jace nodded, leaning on the adjacent wall. "Fair enough. Happy birthday, by the way. You look like shit."

"Why thank you Jace, you are always so verbose and flattering with your compliments."

"Always a pleasure," Jace beamed at him. Alec scoffed. "But seriously, did you sleep?"

Alec shook his head and focused on a specific part of the bag that didn't deserve stuffing any longer.

Jace's brow furrowed a bit, but he continued rambling. Alec stopped punching the bag and just stared at him.

"If you wanted to be nocturnal, I could hook you up with some fine specimens of the Night's Daughters. I'll even personally make sure all of them have nice-"

"I wanted to see my words," Alec murmured. _That_ shut Jace up.

Jace raised his eyebrows and pointed at his wrist. Alec nodded, fingers rubbing over the words nervously.

"I never pegged you for the romantic type. Always thought you'd ignore them."

"Me, too." Alec lied. He held out his hand to Jace, who took it, gently tugging away the glove. His fingers traced the words, but he didn't comment. He's trust Alec to do the same for him in a few years.

"If you hate them so much you could glamour them, you know. Almost everyone does."

"I know. I will."

He knew the glamour would fade away when he met his soul mate. He hoped it was in the distant future.

His hope got crushed when a ridiculously attractive warlock made him laugh for the first time in God knows how long, and he blurted out _"We put the holy water in his gas tank, you know."_ only to be answered with an amused "I assumed that."

Jace shot him a worried look but Alec didn't notice. His heart was thudding in his chest and only saw Magnus. The warlock didn't seem to notice his lovestruck gaze, sending him a flirty

"Call me!" on his way out.

Maybe it was for the better, Alec thought. It's not like the Clave would approve of a relationship between two men. Especially if one of them was a lowly Downworlder. Doubly so if it had anything to do with that pesky soul mate business. In his father's eyes it was simply the Devil's trick to hinder their true purpose. You only needed to be loyal to the Clave and continue the family line.

Nonetheless, Shadowhunter mythology was filled with tragic love stories of parabatai with each other's words on their wrists. They were hunted, separated, stripped of their marks.

They were supposed to be examples.

 

Alec almost made himself forget about the lanky, glittery warlock in Brooklyn.

But then, as fate would have it, he almost died in Clary's house and woke up in the Institute's infirmary to see Magnus sleeping in a chair next to his bed, clutching his hand.

Alec promised himself he'd never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Words by Gregory Alan Isakov.


End file.
